


Shake It Up Baby (Twist & Shout)

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Flirting, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Smith is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trott knew better than to trust Smith.  But somehow, he kept ending up in situations like this.</p><p>Like Ross staring obliviously as Smith lay half on top of Trott, knee somewhere around Trott’s groin.</p><p>Trott couldn’t quite see from this angle, but he could just imagine Smith’s stupid smirk.</p><p>~Troffy AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake It Up Baby (Twist & Shout)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XIzu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=XIzu).



> Thank you to Xizu, who gave me this prompt:  
> “3 friends are playing twister. Person 1 keeps flirting with person 2 and person 3 is completely oblivious. Person 1 rigs their old twister machine to put them in really awkward positions and person 1 ends up on top of person 2”

Trott knew better than to trust Smith. But somehow, he kept ending up in situations like this.

Like Ross staring obliviously as Smith lay half on top of Trott, knee somewhere around Trott’s groin.

Trott couldn’t quite see from this angle, but he could just imagine Smith’s stupid smirk. It made his blood boil, or it would have, except he was too busy biting his lip and trying not to fall.

“Right foot, blue,” Ross said, a hint of boredom in his tone. Trott could see that he was surfing his phone in his free hand, and Trott felt a twinge of jealousy.

“C’mon, Trotty,” Smith said, voice strained. Trott felt Smith’s leg slide against his, presumably finding a free circle. Trott shut his eyes, appealing to some unknown deity for strength, before twisting his head at an uncomfortable angle to try and spot another blue circle.

There. 

Of course, “there” required him to tuck his leg either under or over Smith’s. Trott grimaced, wondering why exactly he was still putting up with this.

And he slid his leg over Smith’s, calves bumping slightly as he maneuvered around the taller boy. Smith made a muffled noise, an altogether suspicious noise, but Trott paid it no mind, pointedly stomping his foot onto the circle as best he could.

“Go, Ross,” Smith called impatiently from somewhere above Trott’s head.

“Left hand, yellow,” Ross said, overloud.

Smith’s hand shifted, quickly, so that his arm was pressed right up against Trott’s side, almost like he was holding his waist for a dance. Except, of course, they were horizontal, and Smith’s hand was flat on the mat beneath Trott.

Then, damn him, he wobbled, as if he was losing his balance, and in the process he managed to rub his left leg against Trott’s right one with a little too much pointed enthusiasm to be mistaken for accident.

“Smith,” Trott hissed.

“What?” Smith said. “Find a circle already, Trott.”

Trott could barely turn his head at this point, but he knew for sure there was no yellow circle close to his left hand. In fact --

Trott nearly swore, but he didn’t want to draw Ross’ attention. Surely, if he looked a little bit closer, he’d see --

Best not to think about that.

Gingerly, Trott shifted his weight onto his right side, getting his groin way too close to Smith’s knee for comfort in the process, and slipped his left hand underneath himself, until his fingers bumped against the warm of Smith’s hand.

“Fancy meeting you there,” Smith said.

Trott’s right arm trembled under his weight, and he tried to shift some of it onto his left, without success. A hiss escaped him, part pain and part annoyance.

“Having trouble, Trotty?”

“Nah, mate, just fine,” Trott said, teeth gritted.

“Sure, mate?”

“Just peachy.”

“Right foot, green.”

Smith shifted his weight a little, in just the right way to allow his legs and arms to press against Trott in a way that certainly wasn’t distracting at all. “Mmm,” he said, and Trott tried to hold back a reaction. Any kind of reaction. He bit his tongue, hard, and breathed in deeply through his nose.

Smith moved his foot, closer in, closer underneath Trott, practically tangled at this point. The back of his knee now brushes Trott’s in the same spot, and Trott tries to withhold a sigh or a groan or _something_.

But now it was his goddamn turn, and he cast his eyes down onto the mat to find an empty circle.

Trott lifted his right foot. Oh, that was easy, it was right there. He’d even get a little distance from Smith.

So he shuffled his foot around over Smith’s leg and then--

Well the ground was certainly coming up at an alarming rate.

And then the sharp _whump_ of impact, not quite as painful as Trott expected. He found himself half-curled up on a soft warm thing, and shit, that thing was Smith. Smith had broken his fall, somehow, and now Trott was curled up on top of him like - like something that he wasn’t going to go into detail with.

“Shit, Smith, let me go.”

“Nah, mate.” Smith’s arms were locked around Trott in a vice grip before he’d even finished speaking. “Gotta keep you here. Check you for injuries.”

Trott squirmed. “No, you really don’t.”

“Just in case, mate.” Smith’s arms tightened around Trott, and Trott wasn’t positive but he thought he felt Smith’s hips shift against him.

Trott’s hand darted out to grab Smith’s wrist. “How many times do I have to tell you off, Smith?”

“One more time,” Smith said, self-satisfied grin on his face. That happened to be the same moment that he made a grab for a very particular part of Trott’s anatomy.

Trott bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood, trying to hold in the instinctive noise. He breathed in deeply, trying to think how on earth he was going to handle this.

Luckily, he didn’t need to come up with something, because Ross chose just that moment to notice what the fuck was going on.

“Fucking - _god_ , you two are disgusting.”

“You know it!” Smith said, while Trott continued biting his tongue.

Ross leapt to his feet, tossing the twister board down onto the ground. “God, bye, you twats.”

Just as Ross disappeared around the corner, Smith leaned in so that his lips were brushing Trott’s ear. “Hey, mate, fancy a twirl?”

Trott released his tongue from in between his teeth and smiled a little grim smile. “Smith, I am going to fuck you so hard, you piece of shit.”

“I’d like to see you try, you slimy little catfish.”

“Oh no!” Ross yelped. “You are _not_ going to fuck on the twister mat!”

“Try and stop us!” Smith called.

Ross didn’t.

It was probably for the best.


End file.
